by Zoey Parker
She had mentioned that she’d been in a bad relationship before… Or at least one that she didn’t feel worthy of her virginity. Maybe it applied to her better than I realized.
I know it applies to me.
Returning to my sketchpad, I began to add in the bandages. Making them light and gauzy, I wrapped them around the heart. I added some blood, though not a lot, because I didn’t want it to be gruesome so much as poignant. For the background, I began to add in shading, not really sure where I was going with it. After a bit, I noticed what I was doing. I was creating a ribcage that started to wrap around the heart.
I continued to work on it, tweaking the details, until I liked what I had. The edges of her ribs would just be crossing over the heart. The bandage would be white with only a few bloody splotches where the heart was healing. And the heart wouldn’t be red, I decided at the last minute. It would be blue.
Blue like veins. Blue like the blue cross program that helped to pay for medical bills for people who couldn’t afford them.
Allison would like that, I thought, thinking of her sister. Yes, Allison would approve of, at the very least, the meaning behind my design.
I began to add in the colors to my design, shades of blue and red and off whites for the bones. I took my time, making sure that I detailed it out carefully. Only when I was mostly satisfied – there would still be things I needed to tweak on it, but they could wait until later – did I set my pencils down. I stretched out my arms, realizing how still I was.
And that’s when I realized Allison was still kneeling at my feet.
I glanced down at her, expecting to see her fidgeting and doing anything she could to get more comfortable without disobeying. Instead, I found her exactly as I’d left her. Sitting prettily, waiting for further instructions.
Reaching down, I brushed my hand along her soft hair, causing her to look up in response. She smiled at me tentatively, her eyes still wide as they always seemed to be.
“You’ve been a good pet,” I told her approvingly. “I’m very proud of you.”
Her smile widened. “Thank you, sir.”
“If you continue to behave, I’ll get you a pretty collar.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said again, her voice soft.
“Now it’s time to get up. It’s already past lunch time. You didn’t know that and were only obeying orders, so I’ll forgive your mistake this time. But in the future, I expect you to have my lunch made promptly every day.”
She tilted her head to the side, considering my words. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”
I smiled at her. She was learning so quickly, picking things up as only a natural submissive could. It gave me a rush of pleasure at knowing she was so malleable and so susceptive to my orders and whims.
“In the future, if I give you an order, of course I expect you to follow it. However, you also have a routine. If these conflict – as they did today – I want you to follow my order until the time you should be doing something else. At that point, I want you to ask permission to do your chores. I’ll choose to grant it or not and you’ll act accordingly. Do you understand?”
She nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Good. Now, get up.”
She rose quickly, but winced as her legs stretched out. I felt a moment of pity for her. I’d already tied her legs up, not allowing them much room to move around earlier today, and now I’d had her sit for what was probably about two hours on them. She was likely already sore. It was no wonder she was stiff now.
I’ll make it up to her tonight, I decided. A reward for her obedience and her resolve to not complain. Such wonderful features in a submissive.
“Go to the kitchen and make lunch for the both of us. Bring it to me in the dining room.”
She nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.” Then she turned and left out the door. I heard her bare feet padding against the floor and wondered if maybe I’d give her heels to wear. She’d look good in them and they’d keep her toes warm.
Plus, there was something about a woman wearing nothing but a pair of stiletto heels.
My cock was hardening again and I had to remind myself that my needs would have to wait. This was about more than just fucking. I wanted to train her, to test her. And I wanted at least this one weekend to go back to my lifestyle.
I had missed being Dom.
I stayed in the studio for a while longer while Allison made lunch. Although I set aside my competition piece for a while, there were plenty of other things to work on. Designs for my portfolio and a few custom pieces that I was being paid a significant amount of money for. They didn’t have to be finished until the end of the following week, but I wanted to get them started before I found myself out of time.
The entire time, I thought of Allison. Naked. Making me lunch. Her eyes wide, her hair dark. And her pussy sore.
There are so many things I want to do to you, my pet. The question is: Will you let me?
Chapter Fifteen
Allison
I went to the kitchen to start on lunch. Part of me was sort of grateful to be outside the sphere of Jules. Sitting that long, silently and with my legs pulled up beneath me like that, was hard. It made me stiff and I was already sore, so any excuse to get up was a good one. And I thought maybe if I had a minute away from Jules, I might be able to think clearly. Being around him was like being caught up in the sun’s gravitational pull. It was bright, warm, and unyielding. You would revolve around him. You would follow his rules. There was no question or escape or anything else.
Just Jules.
And while my body indulged in him like a drug, I had to remind myself about the logistics of things. Like, this was only a weekend. He was paying to use me like a sex slave. And a housewife, I thought as I began to make him a sandwich, laughing a little at the stereotypical role.
Despite the insane amount of pleasure he’d given me in such a short amount of time, I had to remember why I was doing this.
“Bree,” I said out loud as I began to slice up the tomatoes.
Thinking of her brought a pain to my chest. I hadn’t talked to my sister since leaving my apartment the other day. To some people, maybe that wasn’t so big of a deal. They probably went weeks, even months without speaking to their siblings or family members, but it was different for me. Bree was stuck in a hospital with a failing heart. And she didn’t have any other family. While I was sure that Christel would be a good friend and visit her when she got off work, it just wasn’t the same.
I needed to talk to my sister. To make her feel better – and to buy myself some peace of mind. I knew how touch and go things were right now. Getting her that transplant was the only thing that would save her life, but even though I promised the doctor’s the funds, they wouldn’t start until I got them the money.
Bastards, I thought angrily. I slathered mustard on the sandwich, realizing that I wasn’t sure if he was a mustard or mayo sort of guy. I felt a spark of anxiety at the thought of getting it wrong, but forced myself to shrug it off. He wasn’t going to kick me out over using the wrong condiment.
But he might punish me.
I shivered at the thought, though it wasn’t from fear. It was from excitement. I had enjoyed the spanking and I couldn’t help but think that maybe I’d enjoy some of his other punishments, too. Not that I was interested in pushing things in that direction just yet.
I was still in that precarious position of him being able to send me home at any time. I needed to stay, so I would be a good little girl. No matter what he asked of me.
Using what was in the fridge, I finished up the sandwich. I looked around and found some carrot sticks, celery, and other heathy sides. I set them out alternatingly on the plate around the sandwich, taking time to make it look pretty and artsy. It was one of those pointless things – really, he was going to eat the damn things – but I thought going above and beyond might help me out so I put in the extra effort.
I dug around in the fridge for something
to go with it. Despite being a tattoo artist and a biker, he didn’t have a lot of junk in his fridge. There was a six pack of beer, the more expensive stuff, and that was about it in the way of unhealthy. The rest was two percent milk, organic cheeses, fresh veggies and fruits, lean cut meats, and free range eggs. The guy seemed not only conscientious about his body, but the environment, too.
“I knew it. Health freak,” I murmured.
There was some juice that looked like some berry mix in there that I thought wouldn’t taste terrible with the meal, so I pulled it out. I poured it and was about to set it all on a tray to take to him when I remembered the other part of his commands.
Bring both of us lunch.
“Shit,” I cursed. I hadn’t made anything for myself.
My stomach rumbled then and I realized how stupid that was. I was starving after everything that had happened today and yesterday, it was a wonder I hadn’t started eating as soon as I entered the kitchen.
Of course, being as broke as I was, I was pretty used to not eating a lot anymore.
“Not anymore,” I promised myself. “After this, I’m buying good food to put in the house. Real food. No more Mac ‘n Cheese from the blue box. I’m talking the homemade stuff with real cheese.”
I laughed a little to myself, then hurriedly made a second sandwich. I set it up just like the other, then squished the two plates onto the same tray, arranging it just like I would at the diner. It was nice to know I’d learned something useful there.
After pouring myself some water instead of the juice, I carefully walked the tray back toward the dining room.
I walked quickly, but carefully. I’d been gone awhile already and didn’t want to get into trouble for being late. Not that he’d given me a set time or anything, but still… As I headed toward the dining room, I thought of Bree again. I desperately wanted to call her, but would that get me in trouble?
I wasn’t sure. There were so many rules and I wasn’t sure which ones I was breaking until I was already in the midst of breaking them.
But surely he’d let me speak to my sick sister, I thought.
I was halfway to resolved about asking him if I could call her, when I reached the dining room. The table was big by my standards, enough to sit eight people if you put a person on either end, too. There was a small centerpiece with fresh flowers in it. Just enough to break the monotony of the table, but not so much that it was distracting or busy. At the far end of the table – the head of it, I realized – was Jules. He was leaning to the side, resting his chin on his fist, his eyes instantly finding me as I entered. They were striking, blue, and deep as the ocean. His blonde hair was combed now, though it was still thick and wavy and ready to be mussed up all over again. At some point, he’d found a shirt, much to my disappointment. But at least it was tight, stretched taut over those well-defined muscles.
My body began to respond to him as soon as I entered, not caring that he was like a master and me a slave. In fact, that might have been half the appeal, though I wasn’t positive. Yet.
I forced myself to drop my eyes, because there was challenge lurking in his gaze and I wasn’t up for it. Aware of my nakedness, my full hanging breasts and pert nipples, my swaying hips and perky rear, I moved carefully to where he sat. Balancing the tray on one arm like I would at the diner, I grabbed the plate I’d carefully made up for him and set it down in front of him. Then I put the glass of juice at its corner. Next, I set down my own plate and the glass of water.
Then I waited.
He inspected the meal slowly. I found myself holding my breath in anticipation, waiting to see if he would approve, hoping he would. Finally, he looked up at me and smiled. I felt his large hand at my rear, cupping my cheek as he said, “This looks good. You’ve done a good job, pet.”
I swallowed, a blush traveling over my skin at his touch – and my reaction to it. I felt wetness gather between my legs and was a little embarrassed at how little it took for me to become aroused around him. Was this normal?
I started to head around to the seat adjacent to his where I’d put my own plate, but he stopped me. “No, not there.” He motioned with his hand, the one he’d been petting my rear with, to the space beside him. “I want you to sit here, just like you did in the studio.”
Biting my lip, I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
I wasn’t looking forward to sitting like that again – it was difficult to keep still with my legs folded up under me like that and it didn’t help that I was naked, sitting on a cold floor. But I knew by now that I didn’t have a whole hell of a lot of choice. It was either this or punishment – or use my safe word, but that seemed stupid for something like this. It wasn’t like it hurt; it was just mildly uncomfortable.
Holding back a sigh, I folded my legs beneath me, tucking my feet, and sat down like that. I was at the side of his chair, my eyes lower than the table just barely. While I’d been making the sandwiches, I hadn’t really noticed my hunger, but now I did. He began to eat and I couldn’t help but feel starving. But it was clear that I wasn’t going to eat. Yet.
I waited for what seemed like hours while Jules quietly ate. I noticed little things – like he was a very neat eater and clean, too. He also seemed to appreciate the carrots and celery. I’d pegged him right in that area at least.
Finally, he picked up his glass of juice and sipped at it, then sat back. His plate was clear. Glancing at me, he patting my head, like I really was a pet. It was a weird cross between insulting and endearing. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it yet, but I acknowledged that some part of me definitely liked it.
“You did a wonderful job, pet,” he told me fondly. His hand smoothed over my hair, then came down my face. He caressed my cheek then slipped under my chin, lifting me up so that I was looking up at him. “Are you hungry?”
Starving, I thought, but all I said was, “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Get up and sit at the table. I expect you to eat with good manners.”
I obeyed quickly, though I once again found that my legs were sore. Stretching out the aches briefly, I pulled out the chair and sat my bare butt on the seat, grateful that the chairs had cushions on them. I was chilly from sitting on the floor and the fabric felt much better. I glanced at Jules hesitantly to make sure I could start, doing so without even thinking of it. He smiled at me and nodded.
I dug into my sandwich. I really was hungry. Remembering that he’d insisted on good manners, I tried to keep my bites moderate and my chewing thorough. If I spilled anything, I cleaned it up immediately with a napkin. Except for the mayo (which I’d put on my sandwich). It slipped out of the sandwich and landed on my breast. My eyes widened in embarrassment. Quickly putting the sandwich down, I reached for the napkin beside my plate, muttering an apology.
But he stopped me. “You’re a messy girl, pet.”
I heard the deepness of his voice and my body responded instantly. I grew wet between my legs, his voice reminding me of the dark playroom and the way he’d trussed me up and… and did things to me.
Wonderful things.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I told him, my voice tiny.
He got up from the table and moved over to stand beside me. His hand reached for my breast. He squeezed it, sending shocks through me, heating my chilled body. Smiling a little, he let his hand wander up so that his finger could collect the dripped mayonnaise from my skin. I let out a shaky breath at the oddly intimate movement.
Offering me his finger, he said, “Lick it off.”
I opened my mouth and leaned my head slightly forward without even thinking of it. He slipped his finger into my mouth. My tongue did as commanded, licking his finger clean.
“Good girl. Now suck.”
I wrapped my lips around his finger and obeyed. He watched me hungrily as I sucked on his finger, not sure why it turned me on so much. Was it that a part of him was inside me? Or was it that I could imagine that his finger was his cock – a much smaller version of it? I didn’t know. I didn’t care.
I just wanted to follow this wherever it might go.
A growl escaped his throat. “You’re such a good pet,” he told me in a gravelly tone.
Then he pulled his finger out of my mouth and trailed it down my chin. He slipped it across my neck and through the valley of my breasts, leaving a wet trail of my own saliva behind. He moved his finger lower and lower, dipping into my bellybutton before moving lower. His finger reached between my legs and I moaned when I felt it slide along my wet nether lips.
“Wet,” he declared. “Just as I thought. You’re a hungry little sex kitten, aren’t you?”
“Ah – yes, sir!”
“Good. Are you sore?” His finger stroked my lips, but didn’t go any further.
I felt an aching throb between my legs and desperately wanted more, so I lied. “No, sir.”
